


Three

by Kiterou



Series: My Magic Academia [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Amnesia, Character Death, Gaslighting, Gen, Good Parent Midoriya Hisashi, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Grooming, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, POV Multiple, Self-Harm, no beta we die like sir nighteye, personality death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiterou/pseuds/Kiterou
Summary: Three people who died before their time. Not all of them will be remembered and not all of them will be missed.
Relationships: Midoriya Hisashi/Midoriya Inko, Sensei | All For One & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko
Series: My Magic Academia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065380
Comments: 32
Kudos: 63
Collections: Genuary 2021





	1. Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midoriya Hisashi is neither brave nor strong. So he hopes for a world of safety for his newborn son, far away from villains and heroes and the death that follows both.

Within the Kiyomizu-dera, a group of seventeen men and women raised their wands in unison before adding their seals onto the document discussed. The air was heavy with tension until the last woman, Kawachi Himari, added the last bright-red seal.

“It is decided,” she said, her voice carrying through the room. Silence followed, just long enough for the tension to bleed out. “The public shall be informed. Send the message, Akamichi-san.”

“Kawachi-kakka,” the called-upon man said, bowing deeply before exiting the room, followed by two other servants.

“The ICW won’t like this,” the man sitting to Kawachi’s right said, but his tone was level, even amused.

Another man, balding and crooked with age, scoffed. “It has been too long already. Other nations are impatient as well. Japan will bear it and come out strong. Besides, most western nations barely compare to our situation.”

“China and Taiwan will follow our example soon enough, Genji-kakka,” Kawachi said with a sigh. “Until then, we will work as closely with the Prime Minister as possible. We will need to be strong as ever to see us through. We can not back out anymore.”

Nobody contradicted her. All of them had signed the document and magic was thrumming through the air, binding them all to it and to the temple above.

Not that far away, Akamichi Touda took a deep breath before giving the signal. All over Japan, and in a few places abroad, the news was sent to the people. Not with owls or other birds, not through merry green flames or handheld mirrors.

The year was 2148, so naturally, it was shared over mobiles and online news feeds.

~~~

 **July 15th, 2134**  
Tokyo Ward for Magical Maladies, Japan

Midoriya Hisashi watched with frailed nerves as his wife laid in labour. Usually soft-spoken and kind, Inko was now screaming and cursing as the midwife and a young healer fussed around her lower body, encouraging words drowned in all the noise.

He knew he wasn’t a very brave man. The sight of blood and injury made him queasy and he avoided conflict when possible. But when the healer had suggested for him to wait outside and take a calming potion, Hisashi had refused - this was his son being born; his wife that was in pain as she gave birth to their child.

It also helped that he kept to his wife’s side, eyes focussed on her instead of her spread legs.

“Never again!” Inko said with a trembling voice, her grip on his hand nearly crushing his fingers. “You hear me, Hisashi? _Never again!”_

“I know, love, but you can do this, it’s almost done-”

Another scream, another push, and then - then there was a sudden rush of activity from the staff and Hisashi made the mistake to look, just in time to witness the cutting of the cord. His stomach twisted at the sight before he got a glimpse of the tiny thing being bundled up by the midwife.

His breath stuck in his throat and his nausea was forgotten and suddenly, he was grasping Inko’s sweaty hand just as hard as she did his.

“Hisashi, how is he?”

The lump in his throat was too big to be swallowed, but somehow, miraculously, he managed to talk around it. “He’s perfect, Inko. He’s - he’s perfect!”

Inko cried, then, as healers started to clean her up with swift flicks of their wands. One of them carried the baby away, only to return him shortly after, now cleaned and swaddled. The sobs returned with a vengeance when his wife finally held the little boy in her arms. Hisashi almost stumbled in his haste to join them, looking with wonder at the wrinkly, red face.

Little Midoriya Izuku was _so small_ , but his lungs were strong and his cries were loud and his tiny little fists trembled with them.

He was beautiful and perfect and Hisashi thought that for him, for this fragile life they’d made, he could be brave.

Hours later, Hisashi found himself sitting next to his sleeping wife, his arms busy cradling his newborn baby boy. Inko had finally been given a potion for her pain after the healers had made sure that everything was alright. Now Hisashi was alone in the room, listening to Inko’s soft breathing and staring down at little Izuku.

When he first met Inko, all of three years ago, Hisashi had never thought it would come to this. He was a man married to his work, as most of his (few) friends would say. But Inko not just accepted his habits, be they good or bad, she supported him as well with her patience and soft demeanour and her bright smiles and all her emotions always so close to the surface. And he loved her for it, as much as he thought he could love anyone. Six months later, he proposed to her and Inko said yes.

And then she’d told him her secret, but just as she had accepted him fully, he strove to do the same for her. She made it easy to love her so; every day spent together Hisashi was lost a little bit more in her beautiful green eyes and her smiles and the way she moved and her laughter when he told her a joke. Her being a witch did not change that. And with time, he came to accept her world despite the secrecy of it.

Tracing Izuku’s nose as carefully as he could, Hisashi let out a breath. He’d wanted to go to a normal hospital, but here they were, in Tokyo instead of Musutafu’s General Hospital. Maybe that had been the right decision - the birth had been quick, quicker than Hisashi had thought when he’d researched the whole process. With both his wife and son healthy and asleep, Hisashi could not begrudge his wife’s decision.

Inko was a witch and she held magic in her and her world was not his own, but he loved her and trusted her and would not try and take it away from her. And surely not after today, because their son was born and Hisashi didn’t know which side Izuku would inherit. His quirk or Inko’s magic?

“I hope our child gets a quirk, dear,” Inko had told him often enough, because it was hard to grow up in a world that valued them so much, a world that was surrounded by heroes and villains. “It was hard enough for me to pretend. Everyone wants to become a hero when they’re little…”

Taking a deep breath, Hisashi shook his head to clear it. It did nothing to get rid of the tightness of his throat, the weight on his chest when thinking of this little thing in his arms, this precious bundle, being introduced to a world of danger and bloodshed. Hisashi respected heroes. He worked to keep them safe, to give them every advantage he could come up with when building his gadgets. But when he looked at Izuku’s tiny face, he fiercely hoped that his boy would inherit Inko’s magic.

He was barely a part of this secret world, but it was safe in a way not even All Might could make it, with ancient powers thrumming through its veins. He’d _seen_ the hidden sights of Kyoto, of Tokyo, of Matsuye and Takayama, places no villains ever rampaged. Knew of Inko’s old school, tucked far away on Minami-Iōtō.

So Hisashi wished, in these silent hours in which he sat and waited for Inko to wake up, holding his boy close to his chest. He wished, fervently, for Izuku to have this spark of his mother, to be a part of a society Hisashi still struggled to understand, one that would keep him _safe_.

~~~

 **May 24th, 2138**  
Musutafu, Japan

“I am here! I am here, papa!”

Hisashi turned around, putting down his tools before Izuku reached him on a fumbling run. Clad in a small All Might costume and arms held up, Izuku laughed and laughed when Hisashi picked up and above.

“Ah, All Might!” Hisashi replied dutifully and Izuku _squealed_ with laughter, grinning so wide his round little baby cheeks appled out with the delight of it. “Are you here to save me?”

Hurried nodding was the answer. “Uh! Mama said is time! Katsudon!”

“Katsudon? Are you sure?”

“Yes, papa!”

The exasperated tone of his four-year-old son made Hisashi guffaw and hug the boy close to his chest before carrying him out of his workroom. Inko waited in the kitchen, the table already laid out as she filled the last bowl. Setting Izuku down, he leant forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Mitsuki said she can take Izuku for tonight,” his wife told him, blushing ever so slightly from his small affectionate gesture. Hisashi grinned and her flush deepened, green eyes bright with fondness.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t plan ahead,” Hisashi said, but Inko shook her head and pushed him towards the table to sit down.

“Don’t be silly, we both know it can’t be helped, what with your work. Izuku, dear, have you decided which toys to bring with you today?”

“All!” Izuku yelled excitedly, kicking his legs out when Hisashi sat him down on a chair. “And, and the book, mama? Can I bring the book?”

Inko and Hisashi exchanged a _look_ \- they’d bought the children’s book a few months ago, all bright colours and child-friendly pictures of the current top 10 heroes. “I’m sure Katsuki will love to see it,” Hisashi finally said and ruffled Izuku’s hair. “Again,” he added under his breath, winking at Inko.

They finished their meal, listening to Izuku’s rambling about the blanket fort he and his Kacchan would build at today’s sleepover. Packing up his back for the night took longer as Hisashi helped Izuku sort out through his toys and action figures. And then Inko went to bring Izuku to the Bakugous and they were finally alone.

“Ready?” Hisashi asked Inko, the words murmured against her ear as he hugged her. She giggled a yes and Hisashi smiled, affection glowing warmly in his chest as they went out to enjoy an evening of their own to celebrate their anniversary.

Three hours later, after a romantic dinner at their favourite restaurant, the villain Muscular made his debut in Musutafu and killed fifteen civilians and two heroes in the ten minutes it took for All Might to appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 1750


	2. Conviction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world knows him as All for One. But he is a man named Shigaraki who has seen the darkest corners of society. Time is a plentiful resource for the villain, until it is not.

Kawachi Himari, holder of the lotus seat of the seventeen enlightened Onmyoji, let her eyes rest on the man in front of her. He was bowed down in full prostration, a gesture that had become rare these days even for her to witness. But then the man was nervous and afraid. It was hard to fault him - among the other Onmyoji, Himari had nurtured her image as a severe politician and de-facto leader of magical Japan. Her was the lotus seat of the council, closest to the Emperor of old, and despite the changes of power and balance the council had made in these modern times, the symbolism alone held an amount of respect the other seats could not hope to match.

It was the reason why, despite being neither the oldest nor strongest of the Onmyoji, Himari was always given the position of the last vote, more often than not able to tip the balance either way she wanted.

Naturally, her position was not a secret held close to the council. Throughout the Ministry and even overseas, people tended to show her just what that difference meant to them. Displays of respect and servitude just a tad stronger as her peers received. Beautiful gifts of higher worth.

Bigger problems to solve and delegate in the hopes that her decision would favour the petitioner.

It was a cause of great amusement for the council members. For Himari, it only helped to further the headaches she nursed on any other day.

“These are the latest census reports, Kawachi-kakka,” the man in front of her said as he pushed a folder across the floor. His position barely changed and Himari knew that whatever she would read, the man thought it would upset her.

“Thank you, Uemura-san,” Himari said. One of her many aids picked up the folder and presented it to her. The insides were full of print paper, rows of numbers and graphs filling the pages. She only glanced at the content for a few minutes before closing the folder again. “I hope the Prime Minister is well?”

“Y-yes, Kawachi-kakka! And he is still confident in the plan!” The minute stutter was noted and ignored, but he still tensed visibly. Himari swallowed a sigh.

“You may go, then. Hikaru-san will show you where you may stay and wait for the reply.”

The moment he left, Himari relaxed ever so slightly, accepting a fresh cup of tea as she perused the documents with a more attentive eye. Nothing in it was exactly news to her, but the numbers did support the idea she’d carried ever since taking her father’s place on the council. That had been about fifteen years ago and she still felt barely ready for this step.

But she hadn’t felt ready to become the holder of the lotus seat as well, and yet she managed.

“Now, who would side with me? Who would fight me on this?” she murmured, eyes flickering across the spread pages. Her finger delicately tapped against two of the graphs depicting the rising spread of quirks with each generation. Once for the world on average, once just for Japan, side by side as if to point out the glaring differences. 96% of a confirmed, quirked population was a lot harder to swallow than the average of 79% and made for a very good argument. Only Taiwan had a higher percentage, yet they sat idle as the rest of the world.

“Schedule a meeting with Genji Chikafusa-kakka,” she finally said, not looking up to see which one of her aides moved to do so. The old man would probably side with her - he’d already been a supporter the first time her father had suggested the _idea_ , after all, and he was reasonably fond of Himari. Better to draw in her closest allies before going for the rest of the Onmyoji.

And those she knew would protest, well… it was 2145. High time to drag even the staunchest traditionalists out of their denial.

~~~

 **September 2nd, 2142**  
Unknown Location, Japan

Shigaraki dropped the woman from his grasp. She landed in a motionless heap, eyes rolled back so far they almost looked pure white. It always was a shock to lose one’s quirk - a body made to hold one was not supposed to miss it. Some even died from the shock alone.

Others died later by their own hand.

Not that he cared much. Her quirk was a useful one, and that was all he needed to know. It had been wasted for _years_ , untended and untrained in the hold of a mere civilian. Whatever potential she had had been lost in her mediocracy, her willingness to lead an unassuming life. Married young, had three kids, recently divorced - it was almost funny, how much he remembered from but a glance of the file Kurogiri had given him prior to her abduction, and yet Shigaraki hadn’t even bothered to look at her name.

He would not be the one to remember her. Stepping away from her unconscious body, Shigaraki was already pushing her away from his thoughts until only her quirk remained.

“Where is the boy?” he asked the awaiting Noumu.

“Shigaraki Tomura is currently in the Fukuoka hideout, Master,” Kurogiri said without a pause. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes. I’ll go and oversee the boy for tonight. Use that time to gather more information about the potential clairvoyance quirk in Hosu. Talk to Giran.”

“Yes, Master.”

Kurogiri didn’t wait for more but bowed and warped away, leaving Shigaraki alone for a moment. Now mostly alone but for the unconscious woman down the hall, Shigaraki turned halfway around, one arm outstretched. The newly gained quirk wasn’t quite settled yet, but precision was not yet his goal. Feeling the pressure building up, he released the stolen power and watched as shockwaves rippled through the air.

Concrete cracked where the attack hit the walls and dust billowed up. With a slight frown, the tall man straightened his arm a bit more, releasing another wave.

This time, the walls started collapsing with the impact. His eyes followed the cracked lines of destruction, knowing that the old building would not survive such damage. Not five minutes in his possession, and he’d already eclipsed whatever potential the nameless woman ever had.

With a last nod, he turned around and stepped through an oily-black portal of his own making. He had better things to do. His successor was waiting.

~~~

 **September 7th, 2142**  
Fukuoka Hideout, Japan

“Sensei,” the boy started to say, eyes drawn down and towards the stiff, dead hand in his own. His pinkies were carefully raised to avoid touching the preserved thing. “Why are people so stupid? Like NPCs?”

Shigaraki repressed a smile for the moment it took to search the boy’s face for any other meanings. Tomura held his shoulders tense and hunched up, his chin tucked against his chest. His lips were bleeding again from all the biting and his eyes flickered between his mother’s hand and Shigaraki himself.

It wasn’t shyness, though. It was frustration and growing anger, both worthwhile to pursue within the boy for now. So Shigaraki let himself smile, slow and even, and leant forward to tussle the slightly greasy hair of the teen in front of him.

“Because they’re blinding themselves, my boy,” he said and Tomura was staring at him now, all erratic energy and barely-there focus. “It must be nice, don’t you think, to just forget about all the ugly things in the world? Wouldn’t you like that, too?”

“No,” the boy said forcefully, eyes wide and mouth twisted into a grimace. Then he bared his teeth, just a bit bloodied from his dry and cracked lips. His fingers nearly strangled the preserved hand he cradled. “No, it’s stupid! How can they smile? How can they laugh? They’re all so stupid! How, _how_ can they all just turn away and forget and not notice-”

The hissing stopped when the boy pressed the stiff hand against his face, almost hiding against the long-fingered palm. For a few moments, his own fingers tapped a fast tune against the preserved flesh; then, the boy reached further down and dug his blunt nails into his scarred neck. _”Heroes.”_

“Yes, my boy,” Shigaraki said, not quite a whisper, but low and secretive. The boy didn’t flinch away when he grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him a bit closer. “Yes, it’s because of those heroes. Those pillars of justice and power.” His voice turned venomous, mocking, and the boy grinned underneath the hand. “When you look at the sun, you don’t notice the shadows, Tomura. So they put up their shining heroes and forget what the world is really like. But we don’t, do we?”

“No, Sensei,” Tomura whispered back, leaning forward and into Shigaraki’s space, still seeking the reassurance. Still not fully there, but oh so close. “We don’t. I’ll kill them, Sensei, right? I’ll kill all the rot away.”

“You’ll make me proud,” Shigaraki told him and he meant it. His voice was conviction as he gave the boy a firm squeeze before letting go. “Go with Kurogiri now, it’s time for your lessons.”

Tomura nodded and shifted his attention away from him. “Can you bring me the new game?” he asked, already sounding distracted. But that was alright. The boy would learn more with time.

“Of course,” Shigaraki said as he stepped through the quickly-made portal. Looking up, he met the Noumu’s eyes. Then he was outside and far away from the hiding place.

~~~

 **October 1st, 2142**  
Fukuoka, Japan

Around them, the city laid in ruins. Smoke and dust billowed from the smouldering remains of buildings, deep gouges marring Fukuoka where their fight had torn through concrete, glass and steel. More than once All Might had tried to push him away, out of the city, but Shigaraki didn’t let him. The civilians not yet evacuated only furthered his advantage - All Might held back when he thought others in danger. Shigaraki did not.

And now it had paid off. He can feel the heat of All Might’s blood on his deformed fingers piercing the hero’s side, digging deeper and tearing apart flesh and bones and organs. A smile stretched across his face and Shigaraki wondered how he looked right now. Judging from All Might’s face, he might just look terrifying even to the Symbol of Peace.

“You’ll die here,” Shigaraki said, twisting his burning fingers deeper as his poison seeped into the enemy’s body. “You’ll die for nothing, All Might. Just like _her_.” The wound dealt with his words seemed almost greater than the one he’d dealt with his own hands. Whatever light was left in All Might’s eyes vanished and with a chuckle, Shigaraki pulled his hand out of the man’s body and watched him crumble to the ground.

Hubris, he thought just moments later after turning his back to the dying hero. Shigaraki wasn’t a fool - he knew himself just as well as those around him. He’d never pretended to be anything less than a cold-blooded villain. Never thought of lofty goals, no matter how hard he tried to teach Tomura otherwise. Whatever he did, he did for himself, for his own selfish wants.

But for hubris to be his downfall? Burning hot _fury-rage-hate_ shot through him. All Might was dying. All Might was beaten. And Shigaraki had turned his back to him, taunting and mocking in the midst of destruction.

He hadn’t noticed the cold that had replaced the light in All Might’s eyes, not until the broken hero was upon him, both hands clasped tightly around Shigaraki’s head until he couldn’t see anything anymore and every emotion and thought was driven away by _pain_.

Something cracked and then even the pain was gone and darkness surrounded him, a loud noise in his ears. He fell to the floor - that much he still knew.

In another life, All Might would leave him like that, still too much of a hero to make sure. In another life, All Might would do the same mistake as Shigaraki and turn his back to him at the sound of others closing in. In another life, it would be enough for the Noumu to gather the dying remains of his Master and bring him to safety.

In another life, Shigaraki had not added the poison of his words to the lethal wound in All Might’s side.

Hubris, Shigaraki thought, and maybe he thought about the boy as well, knowing that he wasn’t ready yet. And then he thought no more because in this life, All Might made sure that this fight and the deaths and _her_ did not end up in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 2136


	3. Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officer Ogino Jin doesn't know what to make of the cases with no evidence. A man with many quirks seems impossible, but there is always a truth hidden somewhere. It is his job to uncover it. Heroes aren't the only ones that want to help people, after all.

Kawachi Himari let her eyes wander over the selection of hair-pins laid out in front of her. Some of them were made from soft-coloured woods and inlaid gems, swirling motives and petite flowers.

Others gleamed in the light of her dressing room with the intensity of a steel knife. She chose one of the latter and her aid adds it to her hairdo with snapping precision.

“You’re ready, Kawachi-kakka,” the young woman said, eyes sharp and knowing as she stepped away.

Himari didn’t thank her with more but a nod. She’d never been the person to show much of the affection she felt for others, but those around her, those she trust, knew her well enough to not wait for bright smiles and soft words. She trusted them to do their work and was trusted in return to put worth in it. It was enough.

A last glance at the ornate mirror showed her the whole severity of her image. The deep burgundy of silk, offset by the purple and violet flowers stitched sparsely around the hems of her sleeves and the deep, golden obi around her waist, told a story of her determination. She might as well had put on a battle armour for those who knew their colours, but she was the kind of woman who wore silk and flowers and the sharp lines of make-up to convey her intention.

Her wand, ever the only weapon she’d needed, was on clear display next to the simple hairpin, which added another layer of _fight-courage-steel_.

When Himari arrived at the Kiyomizu-dera and walked through the passage reserved for the Onmyoji, ten faces turned to her. Ten pairs of eyes found the hairpin and the wand, the straight line of her back and her shoulders, the combination of colours and the sparse imagery of her kimono.

One of them, old Genji, grinned with all the glee and cunning of a man of his age. He’d seen his share of council members come and go and Himari found comfort in the way he nodded, face in even more wrinkles from his delighted expression.

“Kawachi-kakka,” he said, and then they bowed ever so slightly for the holder of the lotus-seat. Himari returned the gesture briefly.

“Let us go, then,” were her only words as she led the way to the fire. “The Prime Minister should not be left waiting.”

It would be the first of many meetings with the man. And certainly, it wouldn’t even be the hardest yet. Himari still had a lot of work to do - to approach the remaining council members not yet on her side. To soothe the worries of the magicless as they planned for the reveal. To face the ICW, those who refused to understand, those afraid and angry and unimpressed by her actions. To meet not just with the Prime Minister and those in the know, but also with the Emperor himself, the one standing above them all.

This was just the beginning. Her first open move couldn’t be anything less than approaching her magicless equal. Her _quirked_ equal.

Stepping out of the fire, no hair out of place and no soot daring to cling to her, Himari met the eyes of the man waiting there, took note of the crisp cut of his suit and the carefully styled hair and the tasteful pin on his lapel and allowed herself to smile inwardly. She wasn’t the only one dress to kill today. “Prime Minister, thank you for this meeting.”

“After the message I received, I couldn’t very well refuse.”

“No,” she said, stepping forward as more and more members of the Onmyoji joined her in the Prime Minister’s private meeting room. “That was the intention. Now, Yamashita-kakka, let us talk about an idea of mine…”

Eleven council members and one Prime Minister. Neither of them would return to their homes until deep into the night, but that was okay. Some things were important enough to sacrifice comfort. And so, six months after initiating her plan, Himari secured the twelfth member to it.

Now the dance could begin.

~~~

 **April 7th, 2147**  
Musutafu, Japan

Ogino Jin loved his job. He might not be a hero, but he was still convinced that as a police officer, he did an important job. Not every case dealt with villains - crimes came in many different forms. Sometimes, the heroes had to deal with bigger threats. Jin was content with the smaller ones, those affecting your average citizen. Petty crimes, theft, domestic violence - the list was a long one.

The hardworking forces of the Musutafu police department held pride in their work, no matter if heroes were involved or not. His quirk wasn’t even useful in his line of work, not like Detective Tsukauchi’s ability to tell truth from lies just by listening to people. Hard work was his motto, which was why he kept a close eye to the cabinet holding the files of unsolved crimes, often going through them when he wasn’t too busy with active cases.

For a while now Jin was especially taken by a series of robberies in local stores. At least half a dozen files had been tentatively linked together if only because in all these cases no evidence had been found. No picked locks, no broken windows, no usable footage when a camera system had been installed in the store. Neither foot- nor fingerprints anywhere that could be linked to a possible perpetrator. In one case the owner of the jewellery shop had even claimed to have no memories of the night of the theft despite spending it with his wife.

It was a mystery, really. Jin himself thought it might be a group, not an individual - a group with quirks highly suited to burglaries, although some of the proposed possible quirks were the kind that would attract some attention in the underworld. Which was worrisome, since no new rumours had made their way to the police department via the underground heroes they worked with.

~~~

 **June 19th, 2147**  
Musutafu, Japan

“Officer Ogino?”

Jin turned around and came face to face with the tired form of Aizawa Shouta, better known as Eraserhead. Swallowing down his instinctive urge to ask for an autograph (because he never really stopped being that little boy eager to meet heroes), he nodded instead, a smile forming. “Eraserhead. What can I do for you?”

“Detective Tsukauchi said you are dealing with the art case,” the hero said, shoulders hunched and eyes half-closed. It wasn’t the first time Jin had talked to the underground hero, so he was used to the exhaustion and no-nonsense attitude. “I found you a witness.”

“Oh?” Immediately, Jin perked up and accepted the thin file Eraserhead gave him. The theft had been big enough to attract the attention of the higher-ups, but since Jin was familiar with the unsolved cases leading up to this one, he had been put on the task. It was slow-going, what with the utter lack of evidence. Eraserhead’s words sent a small thrill up his spine and he stood up, grabbing for his hat. “Are they here?”

“Waiting for you, officer.”

On the way to the interrogation room, Jin couldn’t help but notice Eraserhead’s eyes on him. “Is there something else?” he asked, fidgeting a bit.

Eraserhead blinked slowly, the same way Jin’s cat would do it sometimes, which was _not_ an appropriate thought to have when faced with one of the most competent underground heroes he could work with. “She told me a bit about what she saw,” he finally said and looked towards the nearing door. “I’m curious about this case.”

Which was- well, it was something. Usually, crimes like these weren’t of much interest for heroes. Nobody had gotten hurt, after all. Although with burglary, it was always just a matter of time before someone slipped up and panicked. “I see,” Jin replied slowly and opened the door, gesturing to the other one which would lead to the observation room. “Please, Eraserhead, feel free to listen in.”

The hero grunted a yes, slouching away, and Jin took a breath before entering the interrogation room. The woman sitting on the desk wasn’t restrained, but she looked nervous and pale in the stark light. Middle-aged, short and dark hair, no visible mutations besides her bright yellow eyes. Flipping open the file in his hands, Jin closed the door and approached her.

“Yanagi-san, right? My name is Officer Ogino and I would like to talk to you about the break-in at the Fukumiyo exhibition that happened two days ago.”

The interrogation was… interesting, in a slightly confusing way. The woman had indeed seen some of what happened from her own studio apartment - according to her, she worked odd hours and was thus just about to prepare a late-night meal when she noticed some sounds from outside. She’d just glanced out for a moment and seen a man standing in front of the door of the exhibition.

“I know the people who set it up, see,” Yagani-san told him with a shake of her head. “The artist and her manager. And I know that they had some security expert coming in, because she used so much gold in her pottery. But that man, he just… in moments, the door was open and he slipped through and no alarm went off. There was just that blue-ish light, but I couldn’t see where it came from. Maybe his quirk?”

At first, she’d thought it might be a worker who knew the security code. But no lights were lit in the studio and no further sounds came out of the building, so she kept looking. And then the man walked out again, hood over his head and only a satchel in his hand and didn’t even bother to close the door behind himself.

“I was just about to call the police when I saw him leave, but that’s when I heard the sirens. And then the man- he just up and vanished! I heard a popping sound, but he was gone. No portal, nothing. He just twisted on the spot!”

Jin didn’t know what to think. According to this woman, the man would have at least three quirks - a teleportation quirk, one that dealt with the security of the place and the locked door, and one that let him transport his stolen goods in something as small as a satchel. He’d _seen_ the pictures of the stolen pottery - one of the vases alone had been almost as tall as himself.

What was going on?

~~~

 **June 23rd, 2147**  
Musutafu, Japan

Jin stared at Yanagi-san. The woman had been placed on a hospital bed and declared physically healthy - but even after two days, she had yet to do more than occasionally blink. There was a far-away look in her now-dull eyes.

The doctor said that she was barely functional, responding slowly through touch alone to guide her through meals and other necessities. No head wounds, nothing amiss at her apartment.

No evidence whatsoever, as if nothing happened at all.

Stepping out of the hospital, Jin’s thoughts raced through his mind. It had to be the work of another quirk - there was no other possibility left. But that made the fourth quirk on the list that one man possessed. He needed to bring this to Tsukauchi. He also needed to inform Eraserhead, see if the man couldn’t find anything.

A quirk that caused amnesia… Jin grimaced and hoped it would only be temporary.

“Excuse me-”

Startled, Jin turned. Behind him stood a young man with shaggy hair and brown eyes watching him. “Can I help you, sir?” Jin asked, his attention split in half between the stranger and his own worries.

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t react fast enough when the man pointed something at him.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger said. And then he added something else and a light flashed up and-

When Detective Tsukauchi and Eraserhead entered the room, Yanagi-san was still staring at nothing, sitting upright on her bed.

Ogino Jin was lying down, eyes open and dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 2027


End file.
